by Jason Banks
“Melanie Williams,” Max asserted, hurling his Sky Mall magazine in her direction across the aisle. “Knock it off, sis,” he pleaded. “We don’t know if ‘Lil is paying attention or not.”
Melanie clicked her tongue. “Oh now you’re sounding just like mom,” she admitted, poking her head around with her left hand at the edge of her dimple. “Lily, I’ll give you this apple juice if you turn around.”
The young girl remained propped up in the seat with her pure innocence and continued watching David Schwimmer’s animated hypochondriacal giraffe character ramble on-screen.
“See?” Mel pointed out. “She’s paying no mind.”
Maxwell rolled his eyes. “If this is what I’m up against for the next week, I’m doomed.”
“Ha,” Mel laughed. “I’m just trying to find more about this mystery guy who I’ve seen one picture of and it was his college picture from how many decades ago on Classmates dot com.”
“In time, mon Cheri. In time,” he affirmed.
Lily turned her head, apparent that she could hear some form of banter back and forth from Mel and Max. “What are you guys talking about?” she asked, removing her headphones away from her left ear.
Max let out a grunt. “Politics.”
“Ohh.” Lily returned the headphone back to her ear and reaffirmed her attention to the movie.
***
A glare from the setting sun gleamed through the window adjacent to Maxwell’s seat on the train they’d been boarded for the past several hours from England to France. It was apparent to him that he needed more than a two hour snooze in order to deal with the vicious in-laws. Much thanks to his lawyer back in the states, Josiah agreed to hear Max out in person the very next day. His confidence improved greatly after having the confirmation they would be willing to sit down with him and come to some sort of an understanding about each other. If for any reason than to start building a better rapport with one another. That being said, Max fantasized about falling into a small mound of pillows and getting some decent sleep.
“Just another few minutes, munchkin,” Max advised, looking at the time on his phone screen while gently rubbing Lily’s back. “We will get to our hotel in just a bit. We’re almost there.”
He was surprised that she traveled so well. He hadn’t the faintest idea how she would handle traveling several thousand miles away from home in a matter of twenty-four hours, this being the first long-distance trip in three years. As their train continued full steam ahead into the city of lights, Max gathered his phone charging cable and placed it into his messenger bag while preparing Lily for deboarding the train.
***
“I have to say, Maxwell. I’m impressed by your unction to bring Lily all the way out here,” Josiah Baxter spoke, propped up studiously in his black suede wingback chair. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t say I appreciate having the opportunity to see you doing so well.”
Max took note of the man’s posture. He didn’t seem as intimidating as he first imagined. Maybe this really was a good idea. This was the opportunity for him to show that Lily was in fact, in one piece, and thriving after the very foundation of her being was rocked to the core in the wake of her daddy’s departure. On the inside, his nerves progressively calmed and the underparts of his pits didn’t seem to be so damp, allowing Max to just breathe.
He outstretched his hand in a thankful gesture. “Thank you, sir. I knew I should have come in person to make things right.”
Brogan’s mother strolled into the sitting room dressed to the nines, as if she were going to some fancy gala. Max wasn’t aware that the top one percent of the world’s richest people always looked the part. He understood the value of having nice things, as Brogan treated him very well in that capacity also. But walking around home in a gown worth more than most average American’s monthly income seemed a bit excessive.
“Yes, we are very shocked to see you doing so well,” Yael admitted, resting herself on the arm of Josiah’s chair. “You know, mentally. We didn’t know what to think with your…” she stalled.
“…problem,” Mr. Baxter finished his wife’s thought.
That certainly wasn’t the fashion Maxwell was picturing his sobriety being referred to from Brogan’s parents. But they were anything, if not blunt from the core. It took every inch of his soul to keep from leaping out of the chair and rebutting to the harsh words they utilized. He felt the need to be leaving soon, returning to his hotel suite to sit around and wait for Mel and Lily to come back from whatever adventure they decided to embark on that day. If anything, the Baxter’s were still trying to be snide. But if Max were to find any sort of sanity after being called a drunk—in other words—he would need to change the subject. And quick.
“That brings me to my next proposition, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter,” Max pleaded. “I was wondering if we could come to some sort of agreement,” he added.
“I suppose we could,” Josiah offered, tilting his head up to confer with Yael. “Well, what do you think?”
Mrs. Baxter attempted to hush her response into her husband’s ear, all the while failing.
The room was so quiet, Max could have heard a pin drop—let alone the reverberations of each twinge of her accent’s manner of speaking.
He clearly heard her tell Josiah, “four weeks each quarter.”
Maxwell’s quick response propelled him to his feet with swiftness. “Bull shit!”
Josiah held out his hand in haste. “Calm down, Maxwell,” he interjected.
“I’m sorry, but that’s three whole months a year,” Max caterwauled. “Even I don’t get to see her that much,” he added, realizing just how that sounded to Josiah Baxter about his ability to parent Lily fulltime. Especially since it seemed that would be counterintuitive to the intentions he had about doing a face-to-face arrangement before it could escalate.
“Maxwell,” Yael spoke in her thick accent, the likes of which sounded deep and thick like molasses. “You do realize we haven’t been a part of her life, because of you?”
“What she is saying, is that we might not have been a part of her life because of our previously unfortunate rapport,” Josiah assured, ushering his wife’s rump off the chair.
“That’s partly my fault as well,” Maxwell stated, while lowering himself back in his seat. “Why don’t we just agree to start out with two weeks every summer? She’s autistic and having to go through quite a bit of change this year, let’s not add to that stress. Is that not a better solution for now?”
By the time Maxwell finished explaining his proposal, Mr. Baxter lifted his head from lighting a thick cigar. As if Maxwell was feeling any better after calling Brogan’s mother out on her ridiculous horse shit of three months a year, he figured he’d lost Josiah’s interest in any sort of arrangement that didn’t include a judge and five billion mediator meetings.
Josiah blew out an initial cloud of smoke, and watched it waft off to the side of their conversation. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No sir, not at all,” Max assured, placing his hand out.
“Good, good,” Mr. Baxter replied, reaching for his glass of scotch.
To Maxwell, it felt so hot in the room, he didn’t figure there’d be any small ice cube left in the glass, but low and behold, the clink of a crystal-clear rock panged against the side which could have been felt like elongated ice daggers hurling towards his chest at the velocity of a cheetah striking his prey. But he didn’t dare show weakness. This was precisely what Brogan’s father was trying to test—his willpower. At least, he figured that was the case.
As Josiah finished taking in the expletively loud gulp of amber poison, he opened his mouth to finish talking. “I think your idea seems fair. Why bring on so much change at once?” He shrugged.
“Right, that’s my thought.”
“But,” he stated, inhaling a giant puff of his cigar. “Yael and I will want more time with Lily as she grows up,” he added, exhaling the plume of smoke. “I agree with you, she seems
to be doing okay right now. Especially with all she’s been through this year.”
Max smiled. “She’s one tough cookie.”
“That’s the Baxter DNA, Maxwell. Weakness isn’t in our blood.”
“I also don’t think three whole months each year is fair to you, though,” Josiah alluded, placing his hand at the corner of his jaws.
Even though Yael left the room moments prior, Maxwell figured Josiah was taking any precautions necessary to avoid her from hearing what he had to say next.
“My wife is a pill,” he laughed. “Maybe she’s too strong. The whole custody case was her idea anyway. Man to man, I think you’re pretty alright. And I can see that having you here in the flesh proves your gumption. Let’s just agree to have an open-communication with each other about our granddaughter,” Josiah finished, setting his scotch glass back onto the coaster it previously rested on.
Mr. Baxter stood up and motioned Maxwell to do the same. He placed his hand on Max’s left shoulder. He certainly was surprised to receive such a warm welcome in their home and embraced the thought that he could keep Lily fulltime, with the arrangement that she’d visit every summer to start off with.
“Thank you, sir,” Max agreed, shaking the man’s hand with enthusiasm. “I really appreciate your willingness to see things in a different light.”
Josiah nodded his head. “Likewise. I may have a dozen lawyers on staff, but I hate them dealing with family nonsense.”
“I can understand, I suppose,” Max shrugged.
The truth was, he really didn’t know what his late husband’s family life was like first hand. He grew up in a family where a portion of the time, they ate from food stamps and the others, his mother held down two jobs right along with his father, just so they could see a green integer in their bank balance at the end of each month. The luxuries The Baxter’s seemed to indulge in was so far out of reach for the William’s household. His life only seemed to get modestly easier when he met Brogan and became a part of the cardiologist’s life—and his own heart also.
Josiah shuffled through his large study to usher Maxwell back to the front door while twisting around at the waist.
“If Lily needs anything,” he began, twisting the knob on the cherrywood door. “Anything at all, you don’t hesitate to call. Alright Maxwell?”
“I shouldn’t have to bother you with that,” Max replied, rubbing his forehead. “Brogan left the two of us taken care of, and after automobile insurance companies paid out for the wreckage, we’re going to get along just fine in that aspect. I can assure you, all that is necessary is your presence in Lily’s life.”
Mr. Baxter smiled, following Maxwell through the lengthy hallway of their Parisian estate. “I won’t hear of it. Her education costs from now until graduation, let them be my token of appreciation.”
“Why, Mr. Baxter, you don’t have to do that,” Maxwell affirmed.
Max realized that Brogan would want him to have the best rapport with his parents if it ever came time to make amends. So, he held out his hand to shake the man’s hand once again.
“Call me, Dad. You were such a big part of my son’s life. I may not have been the best at showing my thankfulness for being there in his world. But I hope it’s not too late to show you how much I really appreciate every bit of happiness you have given him.”
“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate those kind words.”
Yael stood at the base of the stairwell which was only a skip away from the entryway. Maxwell noticed her stepping out, around the banister.
Josiah held up his palm as he swung the wide-open double doors. “Zey shtil, Yael!” He asserted, rolling his eyes. “Oy vey,” he muttered under his breath, audible enough where Max still heard it.
Once on the top step outside the doors, Mr. Baxter shut the door and finished his conversation with Max.
“Sorry about that, she’s a real yenta, that woman,” he assured, placing the same palm up to his forehead.
“What does that mean?” Max shrugged, he figured he’d probably been growing tired of his overbearing wife at times, and that he told her to not speak of sorts as they exited.
Josiah lets out a sigh. “It means she’s a real piece of work, and always in other people’s business. Remember, most of this custody fiasco was her forcing it on me. I can assure you that.”
“Well thank you for the kind words you said to me inside, there just a minute ago,” Max smiled. “I loved your son with all my soul. And I still do. His heart was so big, it could have warmed the whole south pole.”
Mr. Baxter smiled. “I may not be a modernist by any standards, but I owe an apology of sorts for being so closed minded about his lifestyle. If I could take anything back that was previously said to him, I would. In an instant.”
“It’s okay, I think you just did. I forgive you,” Max assured him, holding the man’s hand in his with a smile. “He looked a lot like you, sir. You should be so proud forever.”
Dear Brogan,
So much has happened in the last couple months since I last wrote to you in this app. I have to say, I really think Melanie found the right way for me to channel my feelings in a healthy capacity. I’m no shrink, that’s Durango’s forte. But it seems to work.
You should be so proud of me. Your parents agreed to take Lily a couple weeks every summer to start off with and they called off the large battle in court. Your dad really surprised me and I felt you there with me as I talked to him. I’m going to make this letter a bit shorter, just because ‘Lil, Mel and I are at a stopping point to get some rest. While the moving company has most everything from our house in Cherry Creek, Melanie agreed to move in with us to help watch ‘Lil, so we’re hauling her entire life in a mid-size travel van from Indiana to Washington.
She also agreed to help me embark on this new journey I’ve decided to take. Since I’ve hung up my cap in the travel fashion arena, I am starting a fashion magazine for Plus Sized women and a sister publication for Big and Tall men. You’d be so happy, if you were here. But, I know you are. And always will be. My relationship with Durango seems to be enhancing, and he’s found munchkin a friendly therapist who we’ll be meeting in a few days.
Your father insisted on paying for her to attend a private school in the Seattle Metro area. Since she’s already found a friend in Gage, Durango’s autistic son, I went ahead and wrote a check for his entire new year at the same school. They are so close in age and share so many similarities, Babe, this seems kind of like kismet to me. I won’t lie. I feel so much of you around Durango. It’s almost as like you’ve given him to me as some sort of parting gift. One that I want to cherish. I will always love you baby, but I just know this is ‘right’ with Durango Walters. All the signs point in his direction, it’s been the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced. Knowing I won’t be battling loneliness, with Thanksgiving and Christmas right around the corner, puts a glimmer in my eyes. But I also know that you will be there in some way, shape or form.
Well, I better wrap this up. I promised I’d only take a short bit of private time to ‘Lil but you know her… story time abounds even on the road!
Loving you always,
Maxwell
It took Durango all of ten minutes to wake from his half-slumber-half-fantasy of having Maxwell next to him in his sheets. It wasn’t possible, because Maxwell was back in his roots of Hamilton County, Indiana, packing up his sister’s entire apartment and preparing to have it hauled away to Washington. But Max’s gentle eyes and the exuding grin which formed each time they locked sights on one another—those were things that Durango did have for the time being. The younger man’s handsome features were mentally etched in his brain and they almost kept him distracted from common daily tasks. He reached out to grab the frame of his kitchen entryway, catching his balance from the sensation every parent dreads—the sole of a foot pressing into a razor sharp Lego.
“Goddamn it, Gage!” He winced. Full well knowing his son was definitely still asleep at
seven in the morning on a Sunday. As Durango hopped on one foot to the sink, he thought about how lucky Maxwell probably was, being that his daughter may not have been interested in Lego’s or building blocks. Certainly, his biggest worries were more along the lines of My Little Pony and Doc McStuffins or Dora The Explorer.
He reached out towards the crate which held drying dishes and retrieved his eggshell white coffee mug with a hospital’s logo and tagline. Though some cheesy marketing material it was, it served its purpose well as intended for a vessel to hold generally hot liquids. In fact, it also served as a reminder that particular morning to login and pay his monthly medical bill payment as firmly arranged. This was the usual custom for his weekends off from the office nowadays—lounging around home, paying bills in his plaid-flannel robe, drinking tea while catching up with The Seattle Times and reading an ordinary crime novel.
Durango thought about what Maxwell was currently doing in the same exact moment. If he were buried under piles of cardboard and plastic tape, or if he were catching a breath of fresh air with his mom on the front porch of his childhood home, perhaps clutching a coffee mug himself. He wanted to call with a morning salutation and check in with the Williams-Baxter household. He also wondered how Maxwell handled the emotions Lily had with boxing everything she’d remember from her childhood in Denver—how she’d process that major change inside her noggin. But after only one real lengthy date, a couple of cuddle sessions full of pillow talk, practically learning about each other’s lives in a mere handful of weeks—Durango figured he wouldn’t seem too eager with a phone call. However, he couldn’t become any more eager, given the fact that they’ve already slept with each other of sorts. This ultimately led to the ethical decision to agree not being Lily’s therapist, as this would be a pretty big conflict of interest and flaw in professionalism. The thoughts of their post-dinner date activities rattled his mind as he recalled the memories playing out in his brain like a movie on a theater screen. This pure sense of joy was something Durango lacked for quite some time and the intensity of his feelings about Maxwell Williams made his heart flutter, almost skipping a beat or two every few seconds.